"Scram!" she ordered, as the last few bridge crewmembers hurriedly logged off and made themselves scarce. Niamh cast her eyes around the bridge. It seemed a lot bigger when it was empty, and a little spooky. It wasn't often in a ship's life that the bridge is left totally unmanned and it gave, for a fleeting moment at least, the impression that this ship had had nothing more tangible than ghosts at its controls for some time.She sighed into the silence, feeling the weight of the emptiness around her as a sort of welcome melancholy. That's when the Big Chair, empty and unclaimed, caught her eye.

It was a short leap to wondering how it would feel to see the ship from that most hallowed of positions. She inched over and looked down at it. Reaching out a curious finger she poked at the arm rest. It was soft and her fingernail pressed easily into the padding to the side of the covered and recessed control console.

If the armrest was that soft, she thought, imagine what the seat would be like.Before she'd finished her thought she was leaning back into it, savouring the moment, imagining this bridge, at this moment, and this chair, were hers to command.

"Orders, ma'am?" an imaginary voice called from the conn.Niamh smiled to herself, why the hell not? "Warp five..." she said softly, leaning casually to the side of the ridiculously comfortable chair. She raised her right hand, extended her index finger and pointed ahead. "Engage." She'd imagined that move a thousand times as she rose slowly through the ranks. But it felt so much better than she imagined to get to actually do it.

She sat back, feigning the weight of responsibility on her slender shoulders, and lost herself in how it would feel someday, if she got her own command.

Some day... Captain Da... "Commander Danann, please report to the XO's office..." She counted herself lucky she didn't piss on the seat.

People have a tendency, you see, to come over all prescient long after an event they witnessed has been deemed important.You know the way... Oh, I knew right then and there that things would never be the same... that sort of hindsight.

I think that anyone who claims they possess that ability is a liar. Or at best, delusional.

I didn't know then, sitting at the conn, that Captain Rome would so fundamentally change us all with just a few simple words."I'm sorry"

I recall his tone of voice now more than the exact words he used. I guess you remember the things that impact you the most. I still remember how strange it felt hearing him speak about his brother, and his nephew, and referring to himself as Jonny.

"I'm sorry"It seems silly, I know, but up until that second I'd never viewed him as all that real; I saw him as a sort of... mission order dispensing android that never failed to rattle my nerves, even when we saw eye to eye. To me he was implacable, possessed the ability to be right even when he was wrong, bu t he was little else.He was a statue, and he intimidated me every second, was stronger than any other captain I'd served under, but I didn't trust him totally.That's not to say I wouldn't have flown directly into the jaws of death if he ordered me to, but I certainly wouldn't have thought it worth doing.

"I'm sorry"Then, all of a sudden he showed remorse, and my eyes adjusted and he was human, and he was sorry and real and needed support... and I felt bad for ever blaming him for any of his mistakes. Suddenly, we all felt like he was ours to protect.

He spoke little during that meeting. But what he said was enough, you know?

I guess, after a career spent holding yourself aloof, showing real emotion is a big ask. I prompted him once, with a question. I can't even remember now what it was, but it felt necessary at the time. Maybe I couldn't help speaking. Maybe I just wanted to hear more.

I do remember he spoke about Vintaki. It was disputed Romulan territory back then. Before we'd gone down to the surface, Rome had ordered me to "keep him honest". I'm not sure what he had meant by that exactly, but I did what I could. Still, I failed; He broke the Prime Directive, saved some colonists and opened the Federation to any number of justified reprisals.

Actually, I take back what I said about people not knowing at the time if the events would turn out to be formative. I knew. I knew then that we were on the thin end of the wedge. I had even told him as much, but he hadn't listened. But he was sorry, now. That's all that mattered. Vintaki was in the past, finally.

We could look, as a crew, to the future - however dark a prospect that may have seemed. We finally had our Captain to lead us and I felt my trust in him return in one big crashing wave.And it felt... hopeful.

Maybe we all felt it, maybe I was the only one. I can't be sure. I never spoke to the others about it directly. It felt to me like examining that meeting... on the bridge of the Hyperion, shot glasses in hand, sharing the Captain's best brandy... that moment was sacred. That is was pivotal.